Losing Hope
by Ennix Sun
Summary: Aeryn sits in Scarran custody and awaits a rescue that may never come...


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Title: Losing Hope

Author: Ennix Sun

Summary: Aeryn is held in Scarran custody… awaiting a rescue that may never come

Spoilers: Bringing Home The Beacon

Rating: PG 13, dark subject matter

Archiving: Ask first

Disclaimer: Story's mine, the characters etc all belong to Farscape et al.

Any feedback would be much appreciated!

***

Losing Hope 

by Ennix Sun

She lays at my feet and I have the sudden urge to kick her. A strange feeling. Not trained. More picked up from outside influences. Human influences.

I know it's pointless, she's dead anyway. Has been since I snapped that overly made up head just a little too far to the right. It was a quick death, although not particularly painless given the beating I had managed to give her before making my move. Still it's a shame she couldn't have suffered more, a little retribution for the past cycle. Now she just lies at my feet stone dead (another human phrase) all for the human I love. 

I kick her anyway. 

The action brings a lance of pain ripping through my back and chest. I grab my stomach which is throbbing and sink slowly to my knees. Grayza's body is forgotten now. All I want to do is sleep. Lay down my head and sleep. But I know I cant do that. Shouldn't do that. If I lose consciousness I might never wake up again. And I have to stay strong, focused. I have to stay alive. 

Yet looking back on all that has happened, my blurred nightmare in Scarran custody, I can feel my resolve slipping away. My strength disappeared days ago. My physical strength at least. My other strength was lost to me when I was dragged from that rock, along with the recently deceased Commandant, by my people's greatest enemies. 

Fear. I felt fear, at first. And still do when I hear them coming to take me for another round of interrogation or 'fun'. But it doesn't last long. The fear merely slips away, like fluid down an amnexus conduit. So do the memories. Black patches slowly cover the horrific experiences that have plagued my mind and body. And I forget.

At least that's what I tell myself.

Then the pain in my chest spreads to my abdomen and increases the burning sensations there. My body betrays my mind and brings reality back into focus. I try to slow my breathing but it's been ragged and rushed for the past day now. In the last few arns it's gotten worse. Probably from the exertion of wiping Sebacean hierarchy all over this cell floor. It was worth it though. In the end the pain will be worth it too. It might lose me my resolve altogether so this can all finally be over. It might even do the deed for me. 

I never even contemplated the notion at first. Those early days, probably not as far away as they seem, I was as tough as ever. Because I knew he'd come for me. Knew John would come to rescue me, or the Peacekeepers would come to rescue Grayza, giving me some form of ticket out. I would escape, I would find Moya and everything would be fine. As always.

Then, about two days after my capture, the scientists came. They didn't scare me. Tech's never have. Well maybe one, but only because he made me feel a passion so intense, I feared a life lost to happiness. These tech's were calm and in control as ever. And I fought them, as I should; expected proto-call in these prisoner/guard situations. But they didn't fight back. Simply let me tire myself out until one of them merely raised and hand and stopped me dead with a single injection. I remember hitting the ground, chastising myself for being so stupid. But days locked in a cell with Grayza had pushed my reason almost as far as it could go. Then there was black and for a few short arns I had peace.

It didn't last. Dreams of John, of Moya, of home, were cut to an abrupt halt with another hypodermic. My eyes snapped open to find my body immobilised on a huge metal slab, my arms and legs locked down, only my head able to move. I stared back at myself, through the huge mirror which made up the ceiling of the surprisingly small room. Only then did my curiosity turn to horror. In that one microt I felt enough fear to last five lifetimes. 

It all fit. My exposed belly and the sudden lump which had appeared there, the glittering blades and various other devices, littering two tables either side of my pedestal. Three Scarran scientists stood about my head, another at the foot of the 'bed'. I tried to speak but found my mouth gagged with a thick piece of leather. It tasted foul and I soon realised that the coppery flavour was my own dried blood. 

I didn't panic then. It was only when I saw one Scarran reach for his blade that I began to struggle. Or at least try. But no matter how hard my mind willed them to, my limbs would show no protest against my restraints. I couldn't even attempt an escape, display my anger, my hate. I just lay there, staring back at myself, watching the busy hands of the Scarrans move closer and closer to my unborn child. 

They had unlocked the stasis and somehow progressed the development of the foetus at an astonishing rate. And now the life they had suddenly lit inside me was about to be put out. And I, it's mother, it's sole guardian and protector could do nothing but watch.

Afterwards the details merged, into a long drawn out montage of pain and muffled screams. I saw very little actually, the tears flooding my eyes impairing my vision enough to leave my nightmares incomplete, though no less haunting.

Finally, after goddess only knows how long, they let me go. I never saw the child. A fleeting glimpse of smooth pink flesh passed before my eyes, just as a third syringe penetrated the skin around my neck and I saw no more. But this time there was no peace and I was haunted by a pain so dreadful that, for the first time I actually willed myself to die. To give in to the welcoming void of death and finally sleep in peace.

It didn't happen. I awoke to find Grayza's cold eyes boring into me from her side of the cell. She didn't say anything for almost two days and neither did I. Finally when the pain became too much and my incessant cries and muffled screams had aggravated her enough, she used her compelling demeanour and sour charm to get me some medical attention. I refused it, then fought it, intent to suffer for the loss of my child; for my failure at protecting the two most important things in my life. John is no doubt dead by now. The Scarran dreadnought would have followed them and quickly captured them, with my help. Or rather my clone's help. 

You know, it had been strange to see myself duplicated. Finally I think I could begin to understand how John must have felt staring back at himself all that time ago. However my curiosity was soon masked by hatred. I tried to do something, anything to make it seem different, wrong, to give my crew some sort of indication that she wasn't who she seemed. But the copy was too perfect, scarily so. And after the rescue I had expected did not come, after nearly a weekan of waiting, I resigned to the fact that the Scarrans had gained another success. My friends are in custody, probably dead. And I have failed both my child and it's father in one stupid mistake.

I return from my daydream as the noise of footsteps breaks through my reverie. Heavy, armoured footsteps, probably here to take me for another session with their Captain. He seems to have a particular fancy for Sebacean females.

I realise now that the pain has stopped. Numbed from such prolonged agony I can no longer feel my chest and legs. But my arms still work. And they are what will bring me the peace I have been craving since I gave up my last shred of hope. 

I don't blame John, or Moya or Pilot. Any of them. It was my stupid idea to take on the Scarrans alone and it was my stupid fault that they are now dead. They cant rescue me, no-one can. Not even Grayza. Though I'm glad for that. A debt of gratitude would not be preferable. Even to this.

Suicide. A small word really. One I had never considered till now and yet seems such an obvious answer. I don't worry about the cowardice or weakness involved. I am weak. I feel it. My strength has been sapped with my pride, my honour and my fear. It will be a relief to finally sleep after so long trying to stay awake. Alive.

The footsteps grow nearer and I realise how little time I have left. Trusting a Commandant is not as stupid as she looks, I pat down her outfit from my slouched position on the floor. Down the right leg, under an unusually thick patch of material, I slip out a tiny blade. Not large, but big enough to incapacitate if used in the correct way. In my hands, definitely enough to kill.

I raise the blade steadily, looking straight through it into the tangled mess of my mind. The neck? Too bloody, not a nice way to end it. The wrists would take forever and they'd be here by then. Calculating the blade's length I realise I can end it swiftly after all. Just enough to pierce my chest, straight through to the heart.

The blade stands firmly at attention poised over the centre of my chest. Surprising that it does not shake. The only part that isn't right now. And yet, as before, I do not feel fear. I have no time for it, no room left in what remains of my broken psyche. In fact I am calm. Totally calm, as I realise it is finally over. 

In those final moments I think of John. His eyes, his breath, his hair, his touch. Everything about him that I can drag from the scattered remains of the Scarran interrogation sessions. Everything about life, I have ever loved.

And I smile. Really smile. For the first time in what feels like forever. 

I'm ready.

The knife cuts the material and I do not stop. Simply push harder till I feel it puncture skin, muscle, bone. My hands are swamped in warmth as my life slips away. Before my eyes close I imagine I see John standing before me. Come to my rescue. Come to take me home. 

It is over. And I sleep

.

*

He stands, a statue of despair, as he watches his love give up her final hope. 

He knew their rescue was late. God he had tried so hard to make it to her. But it was difficult. Yet not as difficult as it must have been for her. But as he stares in horror, at her life's blood staining the floor at his feet, he notices a sudden spark of recognition in her haunted eyes. Aeryn smiles, a truly happy and painfully beautiful smile. Then her eyes slowly close and she rests.

John falls to his knees, and weeps.


End file.
